Romy Etude 4
by jpraner
Summary: Rogue remembers that time she had to babysit Bella Donna. Please R&R.


She was alone in the house, for the first time in…months? Maybe more. And like so many of us, who's days are filled with the tedious work of superheroism, she turned to face the hours of idle time before her and didn't know what to do with them. It was without conscious thought that she sat down at Magnus' desk, pulled a few unlined sheets of paper out of the drawer, and began to write.

* * *

I never could stop loving you, but oh god how I wished I could. So many times I wished it…and in my secret heart I feared I might get that wish as much as I also feared I might never. The infidelity, the lies, the adorable attempts at manipulation. … I bore them all and more, as a sort of subscription fee for your attention, or maybe… as the never-ending atonement for my old life, the one that culminated and ended with Carol Danvers.

Still, no amount of payment washes away what's been done. The smile on my face when I thought I'd killed Carol…the furious self-righteousness when I left you in the snow. I know I'm dark as sin for all that…for the thoughts that inhabit my mind, for the desires I have never mastered, for the feelings that rule me. We think we're rational creatures but we're not. We're not. And I can admit that…I must admit that, so that I can forgive myself and keep on living, and maybe so you can forgive me as well.

I knew, in the beginning, that you didn't love me, but what else could I expect. You were a Lothario and I, after all, could never be touched. You at least saw me as a woman. Paid some attention to me. Made me feel loved even if it was all an illusion, and what more could I really hope for. Our time together was the best, the _best,_ that I could _ever_ have, and I should have accepted that gracefully. I should have suffered with gratitude….

* * *

Her pen lifted from the paper momentarily as she let out a long string of pearly laughter ending in a sigh.

* * *

….and that's what I did, too. It's funny that everyone thinks you're the masochist, Remy. They still don't see me, not for what I am.

I was never innocent and sweet. My first set of parents weren't good to me and neither were the second. They loved me, its true…but as you know, _love isn't always enough. _The most I've been able to manage for myself is "decent" and "good natured" and "sassy". It's hard work to take your own pitch-black soul and scrub it into something "decent"…but you know that too. God, its staggering how alike we are sometimes.

When I first met you I thought I could handle you. My heart was so disciplined back then, as disciplined as my mind…strong and hard and sturdy as a stone. Still, even a heart made of stone is not invulnerable, and it was that one night in New Orleans, when you asked me to watch over Bella Donna, that it finally cracked…but not for the last time.

I remember standing over her as she slept and I thought I would reach out and touch her. I pulled my glove off and held my fingers inches away from her face.

"Are you what a thief dreams about, Belle?" I asked her, knowing there would be no answer.

Oh…to have all her secrets and yours into the bargain. But I couldn't do it. Too many minds already inside me. And besides, it was the compulsion of a less noble Rogue. And I'm noble. Aren't I? I don't even know any more. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I barely know who or what or where I am.

But I digress.

I pulled my hand away from your lovely wife and let it rest on the sheet beside her, listening to the frogs and crickets and loons calling out over the bayou…how loud it was. Whatever I was thinking just then I don't remember but in some fever-dream spasm Belle reached out and clutched my bare wrist. I jerked away but she held on for just a split second too long…and it all came flooding toward me…a wall of memories and experiences and feelings that hit me harder than a ton of bricks and flowed into me and through me in only a few seconds. It was like flying, and then falling out of the sky.

Belle's first day of school. You, a little boy, hurrying to her aid in the streets of New Orleans only to find yourself superfluous. You and Belle throwing knives at tiny green crab apples you had gathered and set in rows upon the fence. You, pushing a raft through the estuaries of Ol' Miss' with a long pole while she danced for you in a little white tank top and cutoff shorts. Belle, being inducted into the assassins guild. You and Belle, making love under that ancient cypress tree hanging with curtains of moss. Your face, contorted in beautiful agony as you poured yourself into me…into her.

Oh God. I remember all over.

As soon as it happened I fell backwards into a high backed armchair. Fell back so hard it scraped along the floor and _thunked_ into the wall. I sat there shaking with memories I had no right to. Squeezing my thighs together as hard as I could. Hiding my burning cheeks with my hair.

The door opened abruptly and I knew it was you, so I let my head hang. I don't think you even saw me there, though I was no more than two feet from you.

You stood over Belle busying yourself with something…but I knew I had to tell you…

"Gambit…" I could barely bring myself to break a whisper. "Ah gotta tell y'all sumthin sugah.'

You patted your pockets for something. A vial. And then another.

"Not now chere."

"I touched her Remy…" I started to babel like a child. "…and Ah can't stop thinkin 'bout you and her and in mah mind its me and Ah can feel it all…and oh god…Ah…Ah…Love you."

You were still fiddling with the vials…pouring one of them into the other…I don't really remember now.

"Chere…I don't know what you're tryin' to say but its gonna have to wait. Dis gotta be done jus' right."

No sooner did you finish all your pouring and mixing and what not, than Julian smashed through the window like a black, featureless cannonball, skewering your hand and the vial with his throwing knife. Only to himself be skewered by a volley of crossbow bolts from his own father who happened to be entering with Candra and the emissaries of the guilds. It was distraction enough for me to compose myself.

God…our lives…

You pulled the dagger from your hand as Candra made one last plea for the assassins to end your life, and mine, and all the rest of the thieves, but Julian's hideous corpse moved his father near to tears and the centuries old bargain was left to whither with you as the scapegoat for its end. Who knows whatever happened to Candra…she disappeared in a puff of smoke like the sorceress she is.

You were completely unphased, like nothing at all had happened. With single-minded purpose you went back to Belle's bedside and ripped the sheet where the vial and your own blood had spilled, then wrung what remained onto her parted lips. And I swear to god you prayed…your lips moved and the faintest breath came from them. Your Catholicism always seemed a quaint oddity to me…but you were a true believer in that moment.

When she shot up out of her long sleep like a diver shooting out of the water the look on your face, the childlike joy as your arms and fingers spread wide to embrace her, the pure and palpable love as you held her tight in your arms, cheek to cheek as you could never hold me. It was then I heard the sharp snap of a sudden fracturing of granite.

You loved her so much. You probably still do. It is the one thing I know for certain Gambit…you are capable of truly being in love with a woman. And had she remembered you, something which I'm not entirely sure I didn't prevent, I have no doubt you would have forgotten all about me that day.

But she didn't.

And when she pushed you away, when she asked timorously "Who are you?" I saw you die a little inside. I saw your eyes grow a little dimmer.

"I'm…I'm your friend p'tit." You smiled so sadly, held her gently by the arms. "I'm just a friend dat's been real worried 'bout you." You gestured to Marius…"This here's your Pere. Go wit him an he'll take good care o' you."

We were both broken, one way or another…heh…well, really we were both broken the same way. You saw the piteous look on my face and told me not to look at you so "sad like."

"I had to let her go chere…Couldn't…" Your voice faltered a second. "Couldn't go heapin too much on her. I'm a stranger to her now anyways. And her life is here."

There was a beat of silence, then you turned to face me all wry smile and narrow eyes. I couldn't tell if it was forced cheerfulness or duplicity.

"But we won de day didn't we? Lets do dis town right you an me before I gotta leave it fo' good." You grabbed my hand and it was like I had been holding my breath until that moment. How could I not smile at you? How could I not lean into you when you put your arm around me? And when you brought your lips right next to mine and whispered…"Besides, it's high time you an I got serious"…All I could think of was you and Belle making love under a Cyprus tree.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't run away from you that night…but if I hadn't…you would have seen me break into a million pieces right in your arms.

* * *

She put the pen down and leaned back in the chair, put her face in her left hand, fingers spread in a wide arch like the long feathers of some soaring bird, index to temple, pinky to cheekbone, and wept. Wept like she hadn't in years. Like she hadn't since the last time she found herself truly alone. Screamed into the empty air where the sound was dissipated, eaten up by furniture and wallboard and the persian carpet. Then she took the letter, or whatever it was, folded it once, and drew upon that imprint she knew was still there. The paper glowed pink for a moment and when she released it, it burst into a tiny cloud of ashes.


End file.
